


Reconciled

by Sticks



Category: Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi Series - Aaron Allston & Troy Denning & Christie Golden
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 02:52:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sticks/pseuds/Sticks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cack-handed breakup scene in Allies depressed me, so I came up with a quick fix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reconciled

Between the moment his aide announced Jaina Solo’s presence over the desk comm and the moment she entered his office, Imperial Head of State Jagged Fel had time for a great deal of thinking. He had never realized how many thoughts could be jammed into those few seconds, or how much mental and emotional turmoil the phrase “Jaina Solo is here to see you” could cause.

Ashik’s voice betrayed nothing over the comm, and the Chiss delivered the news in the same way he had a hundred times before, so Jag didn’t have a chance to be astonished before he reflexively answered, “Send her in.” Astonishment came afterward, and confusion, and a keen curiosity. 

He wondered, first, what could possibly be so important that she would go to him. She wouldn’t have come on behalf of her parents; their relationship with Jag, independent of Jaina, was strong enough that they would contact him personally. Perhaps her uncle--newly restored as Grand Master of the Jedi Order--sent her to make some request of the Empire. But Luke Skywalker knew the circumstances behind the end of their relationship, and despite his track record of putting them in uncomfortable situations, Jag did not believe the Jedi Master would send Jaina when any other Jedi would accomplish the same goal. More importantly, he didn’t believe Jaina would ask anything of Jag for her uncle’s sake. Not anymore. 

The real question was not who sent her, but rather what she wanted. It had to be important, and it had to be something she couldn’t do herself. Finally he was at a loss, because he couldn’t think of anything Jaina Solo couldn’t do herself. 

Jag wasn’t the kind of person who made idle, useless wishes, but he found himself wishing he had some aptitude for the Force. He would have used it in that moment to examine Jaina’s presence for any clues. But then he pushed those thoughts away and masked his bewilderment and irritation behind his usual impassivity, because the door slid open and Jaina Solo entered his office.

“Jedi Solo,” he greeted as he stood, “you look well.” Indeed she did: she wore simple civilian clothes (clearly she was not acting as a Jedi envoy, he noted to himself) that nevertheless complemented her slender figure, and her dark hair was tamed into two braids that framed her lovely face. Her skin was freshly scrubbed, free from the smudges of engine grease or the grime of sparring and exercise at the Jedi Temple, and her eyes were clear, free from the fatigue he had seen so much in the past year. She stood straight and tall, or as tall as Jaina ever stood. There was something else, something unusual in her bearing or complexion, but Jag couldn’t place it before she spoke.

“Head of State Fel,” she replied. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” 

He glanced down at the scatter of datapads and flimsiplast on his desk, then said, “Not at all. Please, sit.” He half expected her to perch on the edge of his desk, in the spot she used so often that Ashik had started to call it “Jaina’s chair,” but she chose the right-hand seat on the other side of the desk, the way she would if she were visiting anyone else’s office. 

The way she would if she weren’t visiting her lover. 

Jag decided it was time for a drink, and poured two glasses of Whyren’s Reserve at the table against the back wall. He turned back and handed one glass to her, then said, “Is there some favor I can do for you?”

It was the wrong thing to say, and he hadn’t meant it like that, but he saw a flicker of old heartbreak pass over her face, and she set the glass down without taking a drink. “No,” she said softly. “That’s not why I’m here.”

He lowered himself back into his seat, whiskey warming in his hand. “Then why, Jaina?” He hated the pain he heard in his voice, but he couldn’t keep it out. A month had not been long enough; wounds he thought healed were opening again in her presence. He knew better than to hope for closure, because as long as he’d known Jaina Solo, he’d found none. But she had to understand how much it hurt to see her again, so soon after the abrupt conclusion of their relationship. Surely she felt it, too. Didn’t she?

Jaina looked away, down at the top of the desk, and he saw in her eyes that she did feel it. That was some comfort, at least. She wasn’t here to torment him, and she wouldn’t draw it out any longer than she needed to. As he watched her work up the strength to speak, some small bit of him hoped in vain that she had reconsidered, that she would ask him to take her back. Though he knew she was right to leave that day, that his responsibilities to the Empire and hers to the Jedi would forever be a divide between them, he still hoped. He couldn’t help but hope.

So when she said, “Jag, I’m pregnant,” he didn’t know what to feel. 

He was supposed to say something, he knew that much, but when the blood left his face all his words went with it. The seconds creeped past and he stayed silent. He noticed his glass, lifted it, and drank it down. As the whiskey seared its way to his stomach, he managed to think of four words. They came out weakly: “We were so careful.” 

She nodded, mute, with something akin to shame or apology in her eyes, and pushed her glass toward him. He took it, swallowed, and five more words appeared. “Who else knows about this?”

Her head jerked up in surprise and she fixed him with a glare. “I’m not going to blackmail you, if that’s what you’re asking,” she blurted.

“That’s not what I’m asking,” he assured her, one hand raised. “I’m not concerned about my public image, Jaina, only the child’s safety.”

Looking a bit calmer, she said, “I went to Cilghal this morning to find out why I’ve been feeling so strange lately. She said I’m about eight weeks along. I haven’t told anyone else.”

Leave it to Jaina to work so hard she didn’t realize she was with child. The whiskey was starting to set in, and he almost smiled in rueful mirth. “Well,” he said as he leaned back in his chair, “I expect you’ve already made up your mind about what you’re going to do, so I’m not sure why you bothered to tell me.”

“You deserve to know,” she said, looking down at her hands. “And you might not be concerned about your public image, Jag, but I am, and I’m telling you now so you can decide how we should do this. We can say it’s someone else’s, and that’s why we parted ways, or--”

“I’m not going to lie,” he interrupted, outrage cracking his icy exterior for the first time. 

“All right, okay,” she soothed. “That was an example. You don’t have to lie. I’m just saying there are options here.”

He looked across the desk at her, taking in her strong gaze, her determined expression even though she was obviously scared. If he turned her away, she would do this by herself, and be as brilliant at it as she was at flying an X-wing or using a lightsaber. She didn’t need him at all, and it made him love her even more. “There’s really only one,” he told her.

She cocked her head to one side. “What?”

Jag tapped a small compartment sunken into the top of his desk. It slid open, and a bright stone on a simple golden band sparkled up at them. He had searched for months for that ring. Finding something plain enough that Jaina would actually wear it, but traditional enough that its meaning could not be missed, had been marginally harder than finding a way off Tenupe. 

And then she’d given it back, and he kept it--partially because that small bit of him still hoped that she would give him a chance to put it back where it ought to be, and partially because he wanted to be reminded. He wanted to be able to look at that ring each day and remember how he’d failed, despite always doing the right thing. He wanted to keep hearing the words she’d said, and thinking about how perfect they were for each other, and how impossible it was for them to ever be together. He wanted to understand how they’d spent half their lives crossing paths and losing each other again. He wanted a tangible reminder that he had won every battle, and lost the war. 

Jaina’s gaze traveled from the ring to Jag, and he said, “Say the word.”

Her tears were brighter than the jewel. “I can’t.”

What little hope had been built inside Jag over the past few seconds crumbled again. He should have expected it, but that didn’t change the fact that he wanted to know why. “Surely this changes things,” he protested. “Your duty to the Jedi--”

“It changes everything,” she interjected. “I’m going to Master Skywalker today and requesting leave time, or at least fewer missions, more time on Coruscant. The Sword of the Jedi is going to stay sheathed for a while. My duty is to our child.” 

A chill went up his spine at those last two words: _our child_. Even as his frustration grew, the idea of impending fatherhood was starting to set in. Only Jaina was talented enough to produce two conflicting and equally strong emotions in him, and force him to grapple with both of them at once. In a flash he saw what his mother’s smile would look like when she found out, and he resolved to contact her after Jaina left, no matter the outcome of their discussion.

Jaina went on, “But Jag, we can’t just go right back to where we were a month ago. Our relationship was... kind of karked. I used you, and then I walked out on you, and you might not see it that way, but I need to make sure I won’t ever take you for granted again, and that we’re not just doing this for the sake of convenience. I need to know that our child is going to grow up around a healthy relationship, without bribes and favors and politics.”

“You don’t think you’ve suffered enough,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

She gave him a look, the kind he loved to see, that told him he’d just said exactly what she really meant but she’d never admit it out loud. Jaina Solo had enough experience with military command that she felt wrong making a decision and then immediately changing her mind. She had to beat herself up for a while first. “Just give me some time?” she pleaded. 

He shut the panel that held her ring, looked over at her, and nodded. “For once, we have time.” And then he laughed.

Jaina stared at him with the kind of calculating surprise she normally reserved for a Jedi who had just gone crazy. “What the hell is so funny?”

“Nothing,” he told her through an enormous grin. “I just can’t seem to get rid of you. Even when it’s your idea.”

With an exasperated snort, she stood, but her gaze was soft when she looked at him. “You really want to be with me for this?”

He sobered instantly. “More than anything.” Even in his darkest moments after she left, when he would have done anything, abandoned everything the Empire had worked toward, to get her back, he had never hoped for anything like this. He wanted her in his life again. He was getting that, so much more.

“Then I’ll be in touch,” she said, and turned to go.

“Do me a favor on your way out,” he called after her, and she glanced back. “Tell Ashik to cancel the rest of my appointments today--I’m far too happy to meet with any Moffs.” 

Jaina grinned, and it was the most beautiful thing Jag had ever seen.


End file.
